


He's Gotta Be Fresh From The Fight

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Phil?" Dumbass says in disbelief. "Phil Coulson?"</p><p>(Tumblr prompt: Someone not nice from Phil's past discovers his "secret identity.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Gotta Be Fresh From The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [chaneen](http://chaneen.livejournal.com/) for the beta. <3

It’s pure, dumb luck that Clint sees the guy from his rooftop perch. The sound of doors slamming open is barely audible over the sounds of battle and the sharp wind, but Clint hears it anyway, and looks down. He doesn't have a clear line of sight between all the balconies, but then he sees a guy leaning over the railing some twenty-odd floors down, waving his arms and hollering something that’s probably along the lines of “HELP!”

"I thought we evacuated this hotel," Clint says into the comm link.

Phil responds immediately. “We did.”

"Well, I've got a civilian here. A pickup would be appreciated."

"A bit—busy!" says Iron Man down the line, sounding stressed.

"Thor?" Clint asks, but receives no response. "Great."

"Sit tight, Hawkeye, sending out a retrieval unit to your location," Phil says, but just then there’s a deafening screech, and one of the oversized crow-like creatures they've been fighting comes flying towards the building from a few blocks down.

"No time!" Clint shouts into the comm. "Need someone to cover my ass, faster would be better!" If the Avengers respond, Clint doesn't hear it. He’s busy.

It only takes him a second to select the correct arrowhead and fire, and then he’s rappelling face down along the side of the building, footsteps firm as he navigates between and over balconies and windows. The dude who’s still waving his arms and hollering like a fucking dumbass has clearly not seen the giant freak killer crow headed his way, and he doesn't see Clint either.

Dumbass does however, let out an ungodly scream when Clint tackles him off the balcony and then locks his arms tight around Dumbass's middle to continue carrying him downwards.

The killer crow screeches, and Clint can’t see it clearly, but he’s reasonably sure they’re being followed.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god," Dumbass screams.

"I need backup now!" Clint barks into the comm link through clenched teeth, hoping they’ll hear him, because he can’t hear anything anymore over Dumbass's screams and the killer crow’s screeches and the wind rushing past his ears. He hopes his rappelling line is long enough.

The killer crow’s screeches are coming closer; Clint definitely can’t fire his bow while carrying Dumbass, and if Clint gets killed by an oversized bird, he’ll never live it down. So to speak.

Suddenly, several gunshots ring out, and the crow makes a strangled sound. A moment later, the crow drops out of the air, falling past Clint and Dumbass to land hard on the sidewalk below.

Clint brings Dumbass to the nearest balcony, and looks up to see Phil peering over the ledge of a balcony two floors up, gun in hand. “Thanks,” Clint says, out of breath and annoyed, and Phil smiles in the way that Clint knows is only meant for him, before disappearing.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Clint detaches the line, kicks in the balcony doors, and hauls Dumbass (who’s stopped screaming and is apparently in a state of shock) through the hotel room and into the hallway. “Where were you when they evacuated the hotel?” Clint asks, careful to keep the blame out of his voice (even though, okay, he kind of wants to blame a little).

"I—I was—I thought it was a drill," Dumbass says numbly.

Clint can’t come up with a proper response to that, so he just shakes his head.

Phil meets them by the stairwell, gun still gripped and ready in his right hand. To Clint’s pleasant surprise, Phil greets him with a quick kiss on the lips, before looking him over, one hand lingering on Clint’s bicep. “Everything okay?” Phil asks. His voice is the same as always, but he’s looking—was he worried?—and something in Clint gets warm and fond.

"I’m good," Clint says, smiling, and Phil smiles back.

"Phil?" Dumbass says in disbelief. "Phil Coulson?"

Phil frowns at the man. “What?”

"It’s Todd," Dumbass says. "Uh, Todd Harrison?"

Phil tilts his head a little, but there’s no sign of recognition on his face. “Sorry,” he says, then turns to Clint again—but there’s something in his eyes Clint hasn’t seen before, almost like when Phil is secretly amused, but not quite. “Hawkeye, I need you back on that roof ASAP. I’ll take this guy past the perimeter line.”

"Ten-four," Clint says cheekily, saluting Phil and figuring he’ll find out what’s up later. For now, he’s got some killer crows to take care of.

*

After the battle, Clint makes sure everyone is uninjured and accounted for, and then he goes to find Phil.

Phil’s standing by the ambulances just past the perimeter line, directing emergency personnel with confidence, and escorting people with minor injuries to EMT workers and firefighters.

"Hey you," Clint says, grinning.

"Hey yourself," Phil says, then clears his throat. "I mean, uh, report?"

"Birds," Clint says, shrugging. "Dead."

They lean side by side against the barricade, and take a moment to just breathe together.

"Your team okay?" Phil asks, and Clint nods.

"Well enough. Thor wants to bring one back to the Tower and eat it. Says it’s tradition to feast or something."

Phil snorts. “As if Stark will let him.”

"He already said yes," Clint says with a smirk. "I don’t think he’s realized yet that Thor’s serious."

Phil chuckles and shakes his head, and Clint leans in to nudge a shoulder against Phil’s. “Hey, so this Todd person, someone from your past?”

Phil’s nose wrinkles a little and he gestures noncommittally with one hand. “I guess he thought I was someone else.”

"Someone else named Phil Coulson?" Clint asks pointedly. "He wouldn't have anything to do with your sudden decision to kiss me mid-mission? Because I thought we didn't do that. Something about keeping our work and private life quasi-separate."

Phil doesn't blush, but his eyes briefly flicker away, and Clint throws his head back and laughs. “I knew it!” he says, triumphantly, as he steps around to stand in front of Phil. “You were totally showing off. Come on, Phil. Who was he? High school jock? Neighborhood bully?”

"Just someone I knew in high school," Phil says, but that look is back in his eyes, and Clint suddenly realizes that Phil looks smug. In fact, he looks like he’s gloating. Clint’s simultaneously stunned and delighted. He’s never seen Phil like this before.

"So did you get to pull any more dashing heroics on the way out?" Clint asks, nudging Phil’s legs apart a little so he can fit himself between them and get closer. "Show him what a badass you are?"

"I may have shot at another crow on the way," Phil admits.

"Is he looking now?" Clint asks.

"Two ambulances back, behind you," Phil confirms, eyes glinting.

"Good," Clint says, and then happily leans in to capture Phil’s mouth in a slow, deep kiss, not giving a good goddamn about the fact that they’re still in the field or that there’s a lot of things they both need to be doing. Phil doesn't seem to mind.

End.


End file.
